Captain RISBY to the Honourable GEORGE MOLESWORTH.
_Barford Abbey_.
My heart bleeds afresh--Her body found! Good heaven!--it _must_
not,--_shall_ not come to the knowledge of the family.--At present they
submit with a degree of resignation.--Who knows but a latent hope might
remain?--Instances have been known of many saved from wrecks;--but her
body is drove on shore.--Not a glimmering;--possibility is _now_ out of
the question.--The family are determin'd to shut themselves out from the
world;--no company ever more to be admitted;--never to go any where but
to the church.--Your letter was deliver'd me before them.--I was ask'd
tenderly for poor Lord Darcey.--What could I answer?--Near the same;
not worse, on the whole.--They flatter themselves he will recover;--I
encourage all their flattering hopes.
Mrs. Jenkings has never been home since Mr. Morgan fetch'd her;--Mr.
Jenkings too is constantly here;--sometimes Edmund:--except the unhappy
parents, never was grief like theirs.
Mr. Jenkings has convinc'd me it was Miss Powis which I saw at ----.
Strange reverse of fortune since that hour!
When the family are retir'd I spend many melancholy hours with poor
Edmund;--and from him have learnt the reason why Mr. Powis conceal'd his
marriage,--which is _now_ no secret.--Even Edmund never knew it till Mr.
and Mrs. Powis return'd to England,--Take a short recital:--it will help
to pass away a gloomy moment.
When Mr. Powis left the University, he went for a few months to Ireland
with the Lord-Lieutenant; and at his return intended to make the Grand
Tour.--In the mean time, Sir James and Lady Powis contract an intimacy
with a young Lady of quality, in the bloom of life, but not of
beauty.--By what I can gather, Lady Mary Sutton is plain to a
degree,--with a mind--But why speak of her mind?--let that speak for
itself.
She was independent; her fortune noble;--her affections disengag'd.--Mr.
Powis returns from Ireland: Lady Mary is then at the Abbey.--Sir James
in a few days, without consulting his son, sues for her alliance.--Lady
Mary supposes it is with the concurrence of Mr. Powis:--_his_
person,--_his_ character,--_his_ family, were unexceptionable; and
generously she declar'd her sentiments in his favour.--Sir James,
elated with success, flies to his son;--and in presence of Lady Powis,
tells him he has secur'd his happiness.--Mr. Powis's inclinations not
coinciding,--Sir James throws himself into a violent rage.--Covetousness
and obstinacy always go hand in hand:--both had taken such fast hold of
the Baronet, that he swore--and his oath was without reservation--he
would never consent to his son's marrying any other woman.--Mr. Powis,
finding his father determin'd,--and nothing, after his imprecation, to
expect from the entreaties of his mother,--strove to forget the person
of Lady Mary, and think only of her mind.--Her Ladyship, a little
chagrin'd Sir James's proposals were not seconded by Mr. Powis,
pretended immediate business into Oxfordshire.--The Baronet wants not
discernment: he saw through her motive; and taking his opportunity,
insinuated the violence of his son's passion, and likewise the great
timidity it occasion'd--he even prevail'd on Lady Powis to propose
returning with her to Brandon Lodge.
The consequence of this was, the two Ladies set out on their journey,
attended by Sir James and Mr. Powis, who, in obedience to his father,
was still endeavouring to conquer his indifference.--
Perhaps, _in time_, the amiable Lady Mary might have found a way to his
heart,--had she not introduc'd the very evening of their arrival at the
Lodge, her counter-part in every thing but person:--there Miss Whitmore
outshone her whole sex.--This fair neighbour was the belov'd friend of
Lady Mary Sutton, and soon became the idol of Mr. Powis's affections,
which render'd his situation still more distressing.--His mother's
disinterested tenderness for Lady Mary;--her own charming
qualifications;--his father's irrevocable menace, commanded him one
way:--Miss Whitmore's charms led him another.
Attached as he was to this young Lady, he never appear'd to take the
least notice, of her more than civility demanded;--tho' she was of the
highest consequence to his repose, yet the obstacles which surrounded
him seem'd insurmountable.
Sir James and Lady Powis retiring one evening earlier than usual,--Lady
Mary and Mr. Powis were left alone. The latter appear'd greatly
embarrass'd. Her Ladyship eyed him attentively; but instead of sharing
his embarrassment,--began a conversation of which Miss Whitmore was the
subject.--She talk'd _so_ long of her many excellencies, profess'd
_such_ sincerity, _such_ tenderness, _for her_, that his emotion became
visible:--his fine, eyes were full of fire;--his expressive features
spoke what she, had long wish'd to discover.--You are silent, Sir, said
she, with a smile of ineffable sweetness; is my lovely friend a subject
that displeases you?--
How am I situated! replied he--Generous Lady Mary, dare I repose a
confidence in your noble breast?--_Will_ you permit me that
honour?--_Will_ you not think ill of me, if I disclose--No, I
cannot--presumption--I _dare_ not. She interrupted him:
Ah Sir!--you hold me unworthy,--you hold me incapable of
friendship.--Suppose me your sister:--if you had a sister, would you
conceal any thing from _her?_--Give me then a _brother_;--I can never
behold _you_ in any other light.
No, my Lady;--no, return'd he, I deserve not _this_ honour.--If you
knew, madam,--if you knew all,--you _would_, you _must_ despise me.
Despise you, Mr. Powis!--she replied;--despise you for loving Miss
Whitmore!
Exalted goodness! said he,--approaching her with rapture: take my
heart;--do with it as you please;--it is devoted to your generosity.
Well then, said she, I command _it_,--I command _it_ instantly to be
laid open before me.--_Now_ let it speak,--_now_ let it declare if I am
not the bar to its felicity:--if--
No, my good angel, interrupted he, dropping on his knees,--and pressing
her hand to his lips;--I see it is through you,--through you only,--I am
to expect felicity.
Before Lady Mary could prevail on Mr. Powis to arise, Sir James, whom
they did not expect,--and who they thought was retir'd for the night,
came in quest of his snuff-box;--but with a countenance full of joy
retir'd precipitately, bowing to Lady Mary with the same reverence as if
she had been a molten image cast of his favourite metal.
In this conversation I have been circumstantial, that you might have a
full view of the noble, disinterested Lady Mary Sutton:--you may gather
now, from whence sprang her unbounded affection for the incomparable,
unfortunate Miss Powis.
You will not be surprised to find a speedy marriage took place between
Mr. Powis and Miss Whitmore, to which none were privy but the Dean of
H----, who perform'd the ceremony,--Lady Mary,--Mrs. Whitmore (the
mother of Mrs. Powis),--Mr. and Mrs. Jenkings.--Perhaps you think Lady
Powis ought to have been consulted:--I thought so _too_; but am _now_
convinc'd she would have been the wretchedest woman in the world, had
she known her son acting diametrically opposite to the will of his
father in so material a point.
To put it out of the power of every person intrusted with this momentous
secret to divulge it,--and to make Mr. Powis perfectly easy,--each bound
themselves at the altar where the ceremony was perform'd, never to make
the least discovery 'till Mr. Powis thought fit to declare his marriage.
What an instance have I given you of _female_ friendship!--Shew me such
another:--our sex are a test of _their_ friendships.
How many girls have I seen,--for ever together arm in arm,--whispering
their own, perhaps the secrets of all their neighbours;--when in steps a
young fellow of our cloth,--or any other, it signifies not the
colour,--and down tumbles the tottering basis.--Instead of _my dear_ and
_my love_, it is _sly creature, false friend_, could any one have
thought Miss Such-a-one possess'd of so much art?--then out comes
intrigues, family-affairs, losses at cards,--in short, every thing that
has been treasur'd up by two industrious fair ones seven years before.
Don't think me satyrical:--I am nice;--_too_ much so, perhaps.--The
knowledge of _such_ as constitute this little narrative, and _some_
other minds like _theirs_, has made me rather _too_ nice, as I said
before;--a matter of little consequence, as I am situated.--Can I look
forward to happy prospects, and see how soon the fairest felicity is out
of sight?--This afflicted family, Molesworth, has taught me to
forget,--that is, I ought to forget.--But no matter;--never again let me
see Lady Sophia;--never lead me a second time into danger:--she is
mortal; like Miss Powis.--Lord Darcey! poor Lord Darcey!
If recollection will assist me, a word or two more of Mr. and Mrs.
Powis.
Lady Sophia--the deuce is in me! you know who I mean;--why write I the
name of Lady Sophia?--upon my honour, I have given over all thoughts of
that divinity--Lady Mary I should have said, a few months after the
nuptials of her friends, wrote to Mr. Powis, who was then at Barford
Abbey, an absolute refusal, in consequence of a preconcerned plan of
operation.--Immediately after this, she set out with Mrs. Powis for
London, whose _situation_ made it necessary for her to leave Hillford
Down.
You will suppose, on the receipt of this letter, how matters were at the
Abbey:--Sir. James rav'd; even Lady Powis thought her son ill us'd;
but, in consideration of their former intimacy, prevail'd on Sir James
never to mention the affair, though from this time all acquaintance
ceas'd between the families.
In order to conceal the marriage, it was inevitable Mr. Powis must carry
his wife abroad;--and as he intended to travel before the match was
thought of with Lady Mary,--his father now readily consented that he
should begin his tour.--This furnish'd him with an excuse to go
immediately to town,--where he waited 'till the angel that we all weep
for, made her appearance.
But what, you ask, was Mrs. Powis's excuse to leave England, without
being suspected?--Why, I'll tell you: by the contrivance of Lady Mary,
together with Mrs. Whitmore, it was believ'd she had left the
world;--that she died in town of a malignant fever;--that--but I cannot
be circumstantial--Miss Powis, after her parents went abroad, was
brought down by Lady Mary, and consign'd to the care of her grandmother,
with whom she liv'd as the orphan child of some distant relation.
Whilst Mr. and Mrs. Powis were travelling through Italy, he apply'd to
his friend the Lord-Lieutenant,--and by _that_ interest was appointed to
the government of ----. It was here my acquaintance with them commenc'd:
not that I suspected Miss Glinn to be Mrs. Powis, though I saw her every
day.--_Glinn_ was a name she assum'd 'till she returned to England.--A
thousand little circumstances which render'd her character unsuspected,
I want spirits to relate.--Suffice it to say,--the death of Mrs.
Whitmore;--a daughter passing on the world for an orphan;--and the
absence of Lady Mary Sutton;--made them resolve to hazard every thing
rather than leave their child unprotected.--Alas! for what are they
come home?
Nothing is impossible with a Supreme Being.--Lord Darcey _may_
recover.--But why this ray of hope to make the horrors of my mind more
dreadful?--He is _past_ hope, you say.--